The Emerald City
by chaletian
Summary: **Chapters 12 & 13 posted** Sequel to 'Yellow Brick Road'. Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI team, but it seems that Wolfram & Hart still have plans for her. Slight BtVS x-over-ness. W/Faith.
1. One of Those Days

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter One - One of Those Days**

It was June in Los Angeles and the sun shone down, warming everything in its path. The muted roar of traffic mixed with children's voices and cicadas chirruping away like demented… well, insects. In the courtyard at the Hyperion Hotel, the staff of Angel Investigations were sprawled about, in a more or less somnolent state. Angel sat in the shaded portico, reading Dr Seuss to Connor. Out in the sun, Cordelia was sunbathing, Gunn was propped up against an artistically positioned sun dial, with Fred aimlessly pulling up grass next to him. Wesley was leaning against one of the portico pillars, reading, and Faith was lying on her stomach, feet kicking in the air, also reading. 

"He is so jonesing on the miller's wife," she announced suddenly. Cordelia raised her _almost_ designer shades and peered at her. 

"Who?" 

"Brother Anselm," replied Wesley absently, flicking over a page in his book. "I once tried to find out who she was, but there aren't many existing records from that period." As Cordelia's interest in the peccadilloes of a ninth century monk was limited, conversation languished, interrupted only by a squeal from Connor following Angel's recitation of "The Cat in the Hat". The afternoon flowed on, until a cautious, "Um, hello?" prompted action. Well, action in the sense that Angel looked up, Faith rolled over, and Wesley closed his book. 

"Is anyone there?" 

"We'll be right with you," called Wesley, then turned to the others expectantly. He was rewarded with a selection of blank expressions. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, then stood, stretched, and sauntered into the hotel foyer. Ten minutes he was back, crossbow in hand. 

"What's up?" demanded Angel, standing hurriedly. 

"Her son was taken. Vampire - their leader was sporting green hair and a facial tattoo." 

"The nest down on Armiford Boulevard." Gunn stated grimly, also standing. 

"Sounds like it. They seem to have developed a taste for kidnap and torture before they feed. I say we deal with them now." 

"Let's go." Angel stalked forward, ready to don the (almost literal) cape of the avenger. Unfortunately he didn't get three steps before his foot started to sizzle, and he backed up quickly, a look of intense frustration crossing his face. Wesley grinned sympathetically. 

"You'd, er, better stay here. Faith?" 

"I'm on it." 

"Gunn and I'll come with you. Word is there's about a dozen of them, so we'll have to be careful. The main thing is to get the boy out. Fred, the mother's in the foyer. Can you look after her?" As the girl nodded, he gestured to others. "Okay. Let's go then." 

Half an hour later they were outside a rather run down town house. From the cellar, the faint sound of voices could be heard. A plan was swiftly formulated and executed, and before long all three of them were fighting the group of vampires holed away in the cellar. It wasn't really destined to take long. The sight of the little boy, who couldn't have been more than four or five, was more than enough incentive to get the job done, and in the small space the AI team had the advantage. Faith was slaying left and right; Gunn almost as effective. Wesley held his own until, grappling with the green-haired vampire (more courtesy of Clairol than anything mystical), he ended up facing the front wall. A wall that a window, currently covered up with a strangely cosy flowered sheet. A savage blow sent the vamp reeling, and a second later he was dust, as a crossbow bolt caught him dead centre in the chest. Wesley ran for the window, and pulled down the sheet with one sharp tug. The late afternoon sun streamed into the room, and the remaining four vampires screamed in agony as they burst into dancing flames, until they too turned to dust. 

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," quoted Gunn with a grin as he exchanged a high five with Wesley. "Nice one, bro." 

"All in a day's work," replied Wesley, trying, and failing, to repress his smug smile. He turned towards the boy, but Faith was already kneeling before him. 

"Hey." The child stood there, unmoving, tear tracks on his cheeks showing where he had cried. Faith reached out, and he stepped back, avoiding her touch. 

"Hello, Tommy." Wesley joined her, crouching down to the boy's level. "We're here to take you to your mummy." Still he said nothing, but his chin wobbled, and tears seemed imminent. Wesley was about to try again, when Tommy stepped forward and, with a careful look at both Faith and Wesley, opened his mouth. 

"I wanna go home." 

*** *** *** 

The journey back to the Hyperion did much to make Tommy feel better, and after a rousing game of I Spy with Gunn in the back seat of the truck, he had stopped crying altogether. He ran up the steps to the hotel's main doors, where his mother stood, anxiously checking up and down the street. He clung to her and she hugged back, profuse in her thanks to all three of them. She produced a cheque book, and continued to thank them as she wrote out a cheque, before scooping Tommy into her arms, and heading for her car, leaving Wes, Gunn and Faith standing on the top step. As she drove away, they headed inside, enthusiastically reliving the details of the battle, until they came upon the foyer and their chatter faded away. 

On one of the circular seats sat Cordelia, hand pressed to her forehead, a look of pain on her face. Angel stood over her, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin clutched in his hands. In the background, Fred hovered anxiously. As they came in, Angel looked up, and Faith was surprised at the level of concern he was showing. 

"Vision," he stated briefly, and turned his attention back to Cordelia. Wesley approached her softly. 

"What did you see, Cordelia?" Cordy looked up, her eyes shadowed with all she had felt. 

"I don't know - it was different. There was a girl, I didn't really see her. Blonde hair, in a shop, or something. She was attacked - vampires, I think. But they took something…jewellery, a ring, something, I don't know." 

"I thought you were supposed to get visions _before_ things happened, Cordy." At the fresh voice, they all turned. And froze. Then Wesley stepped forwards. 

"Hello, Buffy." 


	2. Them - One, Us - Nil

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

And we're starting the Buffy cross-over-ness. Buffy and Spike are getting jiggy, but Xander hasn't jilted Anya yet. Giles is back in England. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Two - Them - One, Us - Nil**

Faith looked at her Sunnydale counterpart warily, but Buffy wasn't paying her any attention. Oddly enough, she wasn't paying Angel any attention either; she was looking at Wesley. 

"Anya was attacked at the Magic Box last night. Bunch of vamps. We thought they were on a general destructo rampage, but something was missing." 

"A ring," broke in Cordelia, massaging her temple. 

"Yeah. Giles gave her the heads up about it, and she got hold of it for him. Looks like it was all they were there for. No guarantees they wouldn't have fed off her, though, but Xander turned up in time." 

"What's this got to do…" Buffy interrupted Angel's question as if she hadn't even heard it. 

"Xander staked the vamp, but before he did, he got something out of it. A name - Wolfram & Hart. Willow looked them up on the net; apparently they're some law firm in LA." 

"With a vengeance," muttered Wesley, then motioned for her to carry on. 

"Anyway, I just wondered if you knew anything about them. 

"Oh yeah!" This was from Cordelia, and Buffy looked at her curiously. "Let's just say they're our resident big bad, 'kay?" 

"A law firm?" 

"Think "devil's advocate", only in the literal sense." 

"Gotcha. Well, whatever that ring was, they're really keen to have it." 

"They sent a group of vampires to get it? Straight into the slayer's arms? That doesn't sound like the efficiency we've come to know and…hate." Buffy finally looked at Angel, and her gaze hardened slightly. 

"Yeah, well, they were efficient enough to land Anya in hospital and get the ring, so, at this point it's pretty much them one us nil." The ex-lovers locked gazes, then Buffy blushed and looked away uncomfortably. The silence grew, then Wesley cleared his voice, and spoke. 

"Do you know what the ring was, Buffy?" She turned to him in relief, fishing a piece of paper out of her bag. 

"Willow wrote it down for me. Um, the - the Wonderful Ring of Reynard. It's supposed to…" She got no further, as Wesley gave a snort of derision. She raised an eyebrow. "Wes?" 

"It's fiction," he stated emphatically. "Completely made up." 

"Well, according to Giles, it's the real deal." Wesley looked at her in disbelief. 

"No, it's fiction. Well, literature, really, I suppose. Thirteenth and fourteenth century beast epics, to which Chaucer actually…" Wesley stopped, aware of the glazed looks that had already crept into the others' expressions. "Look, suffice it to say, the Ring of Reynard does not exist." 

"Okaay. So why were your friends at Wolfram & Hart so keen to get their hands on it?" 

"She's got you there, man," offered Gunn. Wesley shot him an irritated look, but before he could continue, Faith stepped forward. 

"_Supposing_ it exists, what does it actually do? I mean, are we talking like super powers, 'cause that would be wicked cool!" There was a flicker in Buffy's eye as she registered Faith's presence for the first time, but she didn't comment. Instead she inspected her piece of paper again. 

"According to Giles, it's made up of three stones. The green one renders the wearer invisible, the white one cures all manner of diseases, and the green one makes night as clear as day." 

"What!" Angel strode forwards and snatched the piece of paper. 

"Well, that explains why Giles wanted you to have it," Wesley said wryly. 

"Night as clear as day - doesn't sound very vamp friendly. Invisibility works, though." 

"Think that's why Wolfram & Hart want it?" Wesley turned to face Gunn, shaking his head decisively. 

"No, invisibility's easy enough to come by with magic." 

"And assuming they're not looking to get rid of LA's vamp population, that leaves…" 

"Curing disease," finished Wesley. "So the question is, which of their staff or clients has an incurable disease." He noticed Buffy's disbelieving look. "What?" 

"All that trouble for a lawyer with a cold?" Cordelia laughed. 

"Guess we never told you about Lindsey and his Evil Hand." 


	3. The Chosen Two

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

And we're starting the Buffy cross-over-ness. Buffy and Spike are getting jiggy, but Xander hasn't jilted Anya yet. Giles is back in England. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Three - The Chosen Two**

Lilah Morgan bit her lip in frustration as she slammed the phone down. Pushing back from the mahogany desk that dominated her room, she stood, pacing to the window. The view of Los Angeles was incredible from her vantage point on the thirty-second floor, but she stared blindly, lips pursed in irritation. The ring had been retrieved, but the vampires who had had decided to up the ante, and were demanding more money than arranged. Considerably more. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. A calm that almost evaporated as the double doors swung open to reveal Nathan, his misleadingly infantile glasses glinting under the overhead lights. 

"Lilah. I understand you've been having a few troubles with your latest project." 

"Nothing that can't be handled," she replied coolly, with a tilt of her head. 

"Good. That's what we like to hear. Now, there is a little matter we need to discuss. Faith." At the slayer's name, Lilah's face hardened. It had been several months since Lilah's plan for Faith had come to such an unfortunate end with the discovery of one missing girl and one dead thug. Fortunately the police had not connected the body to Wolfram & Hart - and it would hardly have mattered if they had - and so damage control had been unnecessary on that front, but Faith had been living at the Hyperion with Angel, still undead, since then. But then a new plan flowered in Lilah's devious mind as she stood there, and she smiled. 

"Oh, we don't need to worry about Faith, sir. After I'm finished with her, she will no longer be a threat." 

*** *** *** 

Stakes swinging, Faith and Buffy walked the LA streets together. It was almost midnight, and they had already slayed nearly a dozen vamps, several of whom had decided that the two girls alone looked to be a tasty bite. Unfortunately for them, they had learned their mistake too late. Faith looked across at the blonde slayer walking next to her, and remembered a time when they had done this as routine. The Chosen Two. She was surprised that they were doing it now, but when she had announced her intention to go out on patrol, Buffy had offered to come with her. But they had been patrolling for over an hour, and other than gasped warnings in the midst of a fight, Buffy had yet to say a word. 

Suddenly, a rumpus broke out down an alley, with all the hallmarks of a vamp attack. They ran up, but the vamps had disappeared, hustling themselves and their victims into a dark opening in the side of a building. With a shared glance, Faith and Buffy dived in after them, only to find themselves in complete darkness. Faith closed her eyes, willing her other senses to spring into action. And they did, because that was all part of being a slayer. The battle was intense, but challenging, and in the end the slayers wrested the three girls, shivering in their skimpy tops and short skirts, from the vampires, shoving them back into the alley with terse instructions to run. The vamps backed away, and Faith noticed with a sinking feeling that there were too many of them, coming up on all sides. Then suddenly they faded away again, and were it not for the slight clang indicative of a manhole cover being shifted, she might have thought they had faded into thin air. 

As they eyes became accustomed to the darkness, Buffy pointed out the entrance to the sewers. 

"Down there." She bent over and removed the lid, and started to lower herself down, until Faith's hand on her arm stopped her. 

"What are you doing?" 

"What does it look like, Faith? I'm going after them." Faith looked at her, something like bewilderment in her face. 

"What? You don't how many there are down there. They're probably just waiting for us to do something that dumb." Buffy's eyebrows rose. 

"Getting scared in your old age?" she taunted, and tried to carry on, but Faith's hand stayed her again. 

"Jeez, B, you got a death wish or something?" At those words, Buffy stopped dead, then wrenched her arm free of Faith's grasp. She sat on the edge for a moment, then stood up fluidly, ignoring the other slayer. She exited the building, stalking down the alley, Faith fast behind her, strangely aware that their roles had flipped. 

"Buffy-" 

"Fuck off, Faith!" 

*** *** *** 

The Hyperion was an indistinct hulk in the dark, and Faith and Buffy walked into the foyer, as silent arriving as when they left. Buffy was trying to ignore her previous behaviour, and Faith generally confused about what was going on. She was definitely going to talk to Wes, she decided, approaching the reception desk, cause something seriously weird was happening. Wesley appeared in the door to his office, and she opened her mouth to tell him about the patrol, then closed it again as she noticed her serious expression. 

"Wes? What's wrong?" Another figure materialised beside him, and Faith stared at him for a moment before the significance of the flashing gold badge hit her. 

"I'm Detective Bramley, LAPD. I need to ask you a few questions." 


	4. 'I *am* Murdering Scum!'

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

And we're starting the Buffy cross-over-ness. Buffy and Spike are getting jiggy, but Xander hasn't jilted Anya yet. Giles is back in England. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Four - "I _Am_ Murdering Scum!"**

Faith exited the office slowly, lagging behind the efficient strides of the police detective. Bramley paused to exchange a word with Wesley, then left the hotel. She watched him leave, then turned to her watcher. 

"They know, don't they?" Her voice was tremulous, and Wesley cursed the past hour's events. Over the past month Faith had become more secure. She still had nightmares, but she seemed to be dealing with the past, and trying to move on. Now the police had decided to intervene. 

"They found the knife. Your fingerprints were on it. So were his, for that matter, but… They know I was there, obviously. I told them that went for a walk on the marina, saw the lights and went to investigate. The man attacked me and I passed out. Unfortunately, they want to know what happened next." He looked at her curiously. "What did you say?" 

"The truth." Wesley looked surprised and she laughed, a little bitterly. "It _is_ possible, you know. Anyway, I figured that there was probably enough evidence to say I was there." 

"Did you mention Wolfram & Hart?" A mischievous look came into Faith's expressive eyes. 

"Okay, when I say "the truth", I'm not talking about the whole truth and nothing but. Told them I went for a walk, and was grabbed. They shoved me in the meat locker, I cooled my heels for a while" - Wesley's mouth twitched at the unintentional pun - "then there was a rumpus, I got out, bad man stabbed you, I tried to get the knife off him and it went in." She shrugged, a worried look apparent. "I don't think our friendly neighbourhood cop was that impressed." 

"Hey, at least he didn't arrest you," pointed out Cordelia, coming up from behind. "Call it an up side." 

"Yeah, 'cause that's so reassuring, Cordy. Shit!" She started pacing, agitation clear in every line of her body. "I - I didn't want this to happen. I just wanted to start over, you know?" Wesley stepped forward, caught her arm and she stilled. 

"We'll work this out, Faith." His voice was soft with compassion but determined, and Faith relaxed, knowing Wesley was on the case. 

"Yeah. We're here for you, Faith. Whether you're in prison or…" Cordelia halted as two highly irritated faces turned towards her. "What? Jeez, you two should lighten up. Look, that guy nearly killed Wes. You saved his life. And, okay, so you killed him, but, hello? Murdering scum!" Faith looked at the other girl in something approaching utter disbelief. 

"Cordy? As far as the cops are concerned, _I_ am murdering scum, remember?" 

"Plus, we mustn't forget that Wolfram & Hart may well get…" Wesley broke off, not eager to scare Faith any further than strictly necessary. "We'll deal with this. Now, it's late. I think it's time everybody went to bed." 

*** *** *** 

The following morning was no brighter. Buffy was obviously in a fit of depression of some sort, and the few comments she made were so full of bitchy sarcasm that everyone was quite happy when she remained silent. Angel was lost in what everyone presumed was Buffy-contemplation, judging from the soulful looks he kept giving her, while Wesley and Faith were both worried about another visit from the police. All in all, Angel Investigations was not in a good mood. The only ones exempted from the general doom and gloom atmosphere were Fred and Gunn who were still going through the silly phase of their relationship, and Connor, who seemed to be developing a healthy unawareness of the emotions of those around him. When Cordelia eventually arrived at midday, the air of melancholy was really quite remarkable. 

"Jeez, who died?" she remarked, and received assorted responses, none of which were particularly repeatable. Eyebrows lifting in patent Cordelia fashion, she shrugged and made for the office, from which she was soon routed by an irritable Wesley, who was trying to track down an acquaintance of his who had studied criminal law. 

Early afternoon came and went, with not a sign of improvement. Then the telephone rang. 

"Angel Investigations; we help the…" 

"Is that Wesley?" There was a pause. Then, cautiously, 

"Yes. Can I help you?" 

"Crap. I don't know why I'm doing this. This is Kate - Kate Lockley. I used to work -" 

"I know. Is there something-" 

"They're coming for Faith. They'll be there any minute. Christ, I can't believe I'm doing this." Then she rang off, and Wesley stood there for an instant, before running into the foyer, scooping up his jacket on the way. Faith sat cross-legged on the sofa, apparently lost in Brother Ambrose, though Wesley took a moment to note that she hadn't turned a page since his last foray out of his office nearly two hours ago. 

"We've got to go," he announced abruptly. "Get your things. The police are on their way over." Faith looked at him in shock, then scrambled off the sofa, stood looking at him for a second, then turned and ran up the stairs. Cordelia and Angel rose in concern, but he brushed off their questions as Faith came back down the stairs, her bag in her hand, looking uncertain. 

"Wes, maybe I should just stay." His expression brooked no opposition. 

"We're leaving. He caught her by the hand, and made his way to the sewer access in the basement. 


	5. The Birds Having Flown...

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

And we're starting the Buffy cross-over-ness. Buffy and Spike are getting jiggy, but Xander hasn't jilted Anya yet. Giles is back in England. 

OK, just so you don't think I have absolutely no command over the English language, the title (for absolutely no reason whasoever) is a take off of years of stupid Latin translations that go something along the lines of "The battle having been joined [please note the use of the ablative absolute] Caesar and his legions proceeded to attack the citadel." It's sort of a private joke between me and... well, me. 

Imzadi: How much of a Lindsey ho are you!! Not wishing to break your Lindsey-centric heart, but I don't actually have any plans to bring him into the story (although you never know) - the comment in Chapter Two was just an off-the-cuff reference. Please don't stop reading anyway! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Five - The Birds Having Flown...**

Detective Bramley was not impressed when he arrived at the Hyperion Hotel with a warrant for Faith's arrest only to find that she had disappeared. The group of weirdos left behind seemed remarkably uninformed - not to say remarkably uninterested - in her whereabouts. Questioned more closely, they claimed that Faith wasn't a part of their team - she was just hanging out "for old times' sake". At least, that was how Cordelia Chase put it. Bramley, however, wasn't a fool, and he had read the reports from nearly two years ago, in which Kate Lockley, late of the LAPD, had arrested the head of Angel Investigations for aiding and abetting a known felon and obstruction of a police investigation. He had never been charged, since, on arriving at the precinct, they had found Faith already there. But now it looked like history was repeating itself, because these bastards sure as hell knew where she was, and they weren't saying a word. Three hours later, after questioning all those present, and conducting as thorough a search of the hotel as was possible under the circumstances, he left again, leaving behind a group of extremely pissed off people. 

"Okay, that was so not fun," declared a somewhat irate Cordelia, who did not appreciate being questioned by a police officer who did not even have the redeeming virtue of being cute. Angel just looked concerned. 

"I hope Wesley knows what he's doing." 

"Of course he does. This is Wesley, remember?" The others looked at her, and Cordelia's confident expression faded somewhat. "No, you're right," she said after a moment. "He's gone completely psycho. Not in the axe-murdering sense," she hastened to add. "You know - just in the creepy weird sense." 

"Wes can handle himself," offered Gunn. 

"Yeah, when he's not being all Must-Protect-Faith-y. We do all remember what happened last time he went riding to her rescue, right?" At Buffy's curious expression, she explained. "Wolfram & Hart did the whole kidnap the slayer thing. Wesley went to save her and got himself cut into itty bitty pieces." 

"Why do you all care? About Faith," Buffy clarified, looking at them in surprise. "I mean, everyone's clear on the "Faith is a murderer" concept?" 

"Everyone gets a second chance." Cordelia's voice lost its tart tone, and she regarded Buffy carefully. "That includes Faith." 

"She's a bitch." 

"Well, not to be at all personal here, but you aren't exactly Little Miss Sunshine yourself." 

"Well, excuse me, but I was -" 

"Yeah, yeah, dead, we know. Faith was in prison. Same diff. Okay, maybe not, but not too far off." The two ex-high-schoolers faced off, each remembering exactly why they had disliked the other. As far as Buffy was concerned, Cordy had always been a bitch, but underneath that had been the far more disconcerting perspicacity that popped out every so often, and which was often harder to take than the bitching. Cordelia on the other hand had always gotten seriously pissed off at Buffy's holier than thou attitude to life. It might have got sticky, but at that moment the hotel's main doors swung open, and Kate Lockley walked in. 

*** *** *** 

Faith viewed Wesley's back dubiously as the two of them trudged through LA's sewer system. He hadn't said a word since they had left the Hyperion, and Faith was getting seriously concerned. This was stupid. 

"Wes, this isn't right." He vouchsafed no answer, but carried on walking determinedly. Faith ran forward and caught his arm, drawing him to a halt. "Wesley! What. Are. You. Doing?" He looked at her intently, eyes boring into her. 

"Keeping you out of prison." He turned to carry on walking, but she kept hold of his arm. 

"Wesley, this is insane! What, you want me to be on the run for the rest of my life?" She hesitated, then ploughed on. "I killed him, Wes. Whether I meant to or not, whether I had a good reason or not, the fact remains that I stuck a knife in him and… I watched him die, Wesley. If there's a price to pay, I have to pay it." 

"No, Faith, I won't-" 

"Wesley! You taught me that! Look, if the police want to talk to me, then I'm going to let them." She started walking back towards the hotel, but she didn't manage more than a couple of steps before a surprisingly strong arm pushed her against the wall of the sewer, crowding against her. 

"I'm not going to let them put you back in prison." She looked up at the face hovering above hers, frown in place, lips set and determined, eyes intense, and something cracked open in the vicinity of her chest. She lifted a hand towards him. 

"Wes…" He caught it, held it, traced the shape of her fingers with his thumb, and her breath hitched. His head lowered, infinitesimally, and she bit her lip, suddenly sure what was coming, and ready to welcome it. Then something changed in his face, and he stepped back, releasing her hand. 

"It is my duty to protect you, Faith," he said distantly. He moved away, back down the sewers, leaving her there, slumped against the wall, her heart racing with what might have been and stinging with that one word. Duty. 


	6. Running Doesn't Solve Anything

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Sequel to "Yellow Brick Road". Faith continues on her path to redemption with a little help from the AI crew, but it looks like Wolfram & Hart have still got plans for her. 

Distribution: Go ahead, take it, just let me know. 

Feedback: Go on, make me a happy person. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Go figure. 

Author's Notes: Okay, so yay sequel. It would probably be a good idea to read "Yellow Brick Road" before reading this, but it's not necessary. Basically, after assorted trials and tribulations, Faith is back in the fold. Also, I'm English, so please excuse any suspect spellings, bizarre phrases, and make allowances for the fact that the only season 3 ep I've seen is "Fredless". 

And we're starting the Buffy cross-over-ness. Buffy and Spike are getting jiggy, but Xander hasn't jilted Anya yet. Giles is back in England. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Six - Running Doesn't Solve Anything**

Wesley stopped, eyes closed. He knew without turning that she had gone back the way they had come, back to the Hyperion. Back to the police. Hands against the sewer wall, he leaned, thoughts whirling through his head. 

The bugger of it was that she was right, of course. It _was_ insane to run away, to try and ignore the threat from the police. She had killed a man, but only to save him. But as hard as he tried to rationalise the situation, to convince himself that the police would act in the interests of justice, that Faith would not be sent back to prison, he knew he was lying to himself. 

Faith had changed so much in some ways, and so little in others. She had accused him of having the hots for her in Sunnydale, but that wasn't true. She had been his slayer, a young girl he was charged with guiding through her calling. Admittedly he had failed miserably, but that didn't alter the fact that he had never though of her in… _that_ way. 

But now? Oh, now was a different story. When she had looked at him in the moonlight, wanting the pain to stop, when he had held her in his arms as she cried - and held her in his arms as she fought to get free, something had shifted inside him, some fundamental balance had changed. Her deep, dark eyes, alternating between pain, regret, humour, sarcasm; the slightly husky voice that could ask for help like a child in the dark, or promise a man… promise him agony and ecstasy; her smile; her body… They had awakened something in him, and for a moment it had seemed that there was something there, something that could be. 

But he was her watcher. She didn't need another man lusting over her, she needed someone who could help her find balance in her life. And he couldn't have her. 

*** *** *** 

There was a very strained atmosphere in the Hyperion's foyer, for no appreciable reason that Faith could tell, as she walked in. A woman she recognised as being another detective from LAPD was standing talking to Angel, while Buffy was looking on with that suspicious, almost resentful look she sometimes wore. Cordelia was observing the situation with interest, while Fred and Gunn seemed to have disappeared completely. She strode forward, outwardly calm, though inside she was screaming at herself not to be such an idiot. She approached the detective woman, holding out her wrists. 

"Hey, I'm ready to go," she announced brazenly. The blonde woman - Lockley, her name was, Faith remembered - looked at her in confusion. 

"Go?" 

"Yeah - you know, hand cuffs, suspected m-murderer, the whole lot." She stumbled over the "M" word, her flippancy reaching its limits. Lockley looked at her in something that was close to wonder. 

"I thought you'd skipped." Faith grinned, her mask of indifference firmly in place. 

"Guess I don't know what's good for me. Look, can you just arrest me, already?" 

"No, actually." Faith looked at her in confusion, and dropped her hands, stepping back. 

"What?" 

"I'm no longer a detective. I just came by to see what happened." 

"You rang Wes?" The other woman nodded. 

"Thought I'd give you a warning. I heard what happened out there, figured you were trying to protect him." She looked at her, not sure what was going on. "I thought he'd get you out of here." 

"He did," interrupted Angel. "What are you doing back, Faith?" She turned to him and shrugged. 

"Running wasn't going to solve anything." Buffy gave a derisive snort. 

"What, you've just worked that one out?" 

"Oh, like you've never run away, Miss Let Me Disappear For A Whole Summer Without Telling Anyone Where I Am?" Faith felt a surge of warmth as Cordelia leapt to her defence and turned to face the others. 

"I'm going down to the precinct. I can't hide here forever." Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement, and swinging round she saw Wesley, his face grave. He came up to her, and for a moment she thought he would reach out and touch her, put his hands on her shoulders as he so often had in the past. But he stopped a foot away, and came no closer. 

"I'm coming with you." 


	7. Think About the Linoleum

**THE EMERALD CITY**   
By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Disclaimer: Not mine.   
Distribution: Just let me know. 

Hehe! Exercise in brevity. OK, the likelihood of this being correct is about ten billion to one, but go with it. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Seven - Think About the Linoleum**

Wesley paced anxiously, concentrating as far as was possible on the peeling linoleum. Around him, Los Angeles' finest went about their business, and Wesley found that his usual slightly superior appreciation of the police was replaced by an atavistic desire to send them all straight to Hades. In one of the little interview rooms was Faith, where she had been courteously - but firmly - escorted by Detective Bramley. His pacing slowed as he dragged a hand through his hair, then resumed, as thoughts of what might be happening filled his head. They could be browbeating her, forcing her to confess to things she had never done, threatening her with… things. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. This is twenty-first century America, he reminded himself, not the seventeenth century. This wasn't Salem, or getting a confession out of Guy Fawkes. But you saw all those films… No, Wesley, they're just films. They're made up. What about Dracula? his subconscious replied. That's supposed to just be fiction. Bugger. Think about the linoleum. 

*** *** *** 

He might have been somewhat happier had he been privy to what was going on in the interview room. Faith sat at the end of the table, a wary expression on her face, as though she fully expected the detective to whip out the handcuffs any second. Which, under the circumstances, was a pretty reasonable expectation. She had repeated what happened, then identified the gun cleaning man from a mug shot. 

"Yeah, that's him." 

"This is the man you killed?" 

"Yeah," she replied briefly, ducking her head slightly. 

"Know his name?" She looked up in surprise, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips, despite the inappropriate situation. 

"We didn't exactly get round to exchanging pleasantries." Bramley leaned forward, his expression serious. 

"Don't get smart with me, Faith. Do _not_ kid yourself: you are in a tricky position here. You admit killing this man. You're a convicted murderer. This is not good for you." 

"Don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid!" Faith rose, agitated. "I'm sorry I killed him; I didn't mean to." She turned away from him, closed her eyes, feeling the bile building, knowing that this was probably the end of the line for her. Redemption. Forgiveness. Such hard things to obtain. And she thought that maybe she had. She had returned to the fold, like the proverbial lost sheep; she had found her place. And sometimes she hoped she had found more than that. And now it was all going to end. But there was at least one part she couldn't regret, one thing she didn't want to change. And in an instant, Faith realised she was proud of that. She turned back, fists clenching. 

"I know I'm going to go back to prison. I know I'll probably spend the rest of my life there. And maybe I deserve it. But I'm not sorry he's dead, and I would do it again in a heartbeat." Her voice rang with conviction, her eyes blazing, and Bramley sat back and watched her, his face a blank. 

"He would have killed Wesley." She leaned forward, hands flat on the desk. "He's a good man and people depend on him. I wouldn't…couldn't stand by and let that… that _bastard_ stick a knife in him." She sat down, suddenly aware of the passion in her voice. "I just couldn't," she finished softly. 

There was silence. 

"His name was Owen Fischer. He was a convicted rapist. Charged with several homicides, but his lawyers always got him off. Released on parole three months ago; barely a week before he died. We were already looking to bring him in on suspicion of another rape that took place four days after his release. If I'm being honest, I have to admit he was no loss to society." Faith didn't dare look up, but the faintest flicker of hope burned anew in her heart. 

"The forensic evidence confirms that the knife you used to stab Fischer was also the knife used on Mr Wyndham-Pryce. There's also no doubt from the evidence that it was Fischer who stabbed Mr Wyndham-Pryce." A stray thought saw Bramley wishing that the Englishman didn't have such an unwieldy surname. "Given that you have an obvious connection with Mr Wynd… Wesley, that you called an ambulance to the scene, that you came here today…" He paused, and Faith looked up, trying hard to hide the anticipatory gleam in her eyes. 

"We're not intending to charge you for Fischer's death. The verdict will be one of accidental death." Faith bit her lip, scarcely allowing herself to believe what she was hearing. 

"Does… does that mean…?" She trailed off, unsure what to say. 

"Go home, Faith. And try to stay out of trouble." 


	8. Rules and Regulations and Stupid Glasses

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Disclaimer: Not mine.   
Distribution: Just let me know. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Eight - Rules and Regulations and Stupid Glasses**

Wesley looked up sharply as the door to the interview room opened and Faith and the detective walked out. There was no sign of handcuffs, and Wesley allowed himself a moment of hope before hurrying over. He looked at the pair of them expectantly, and Faith tried hard to restrain her grin, afraid to show anything but solemn appreciation of her luck in case Bramley took it the wrong way. 

"Hey, Wes," she greeted him, tone sombre. His worried expression returned. 

"Faith-" 

"We're not charging her, Mr Wyndham-Pryce." The detective broke in, afraid that stuttering half sentences and unfinished queries would characterise the conversation. "She's free to go. But before you do…" His words halted the departure of the two members of Angel Investigations. Wesley turned round, an apprehensive look on his face. "You lied to me, Wesley. Going for a walk? Just "coming across" Faith? A word of advice - don't lie to the police. It just makes problems further down the line." And with that, he walked off, leaving Faith and Wesley behind. They stood for a moment, scarcely able to believe that that was all, that nothing else was going to happen. Then Faith gave a whoop of excitement, and flung her arms round Wesley. In that first flush of relief, he hugged her back, for a moment simply enjoying the fact that she was free, that she wouldn't suffer for saving his life. Then that moment passed, and he was all too aware of the supple body against his, of her breasts pressed against his chest, of the beat of her heart next to his. She felt right in his arms, and he closed his eyes, cheek against the wildness of her hair, breathing in the smell that was uniquely Faith. Then he pulled aware, unwillingly, but firmly. 

"I'm so glad, Faith," he said sincerely. His hand raised, softly brushed her cheek, then he walked away. 

*** *** *** 

She stood and watched him leave, a frown creasing her features, a disconsolate look barely apparent. She didn't understand. Not why Wesley kept pulling away, not why she felt the way she did. She set out after him, walking slowly. The first time she had met Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was when he had first arrived in Sunnydale as the new watcher, a pompous, stake-up-his-ass British guy with no idea what slaying was all about. He was pathetic… plus he had been drooling over Cordelia, which had been gross, not to put too fine a point on it. And he's set the Watchers' Council on her. She had been so close to being free of it all, to stepping back from the precipice she had been standing on, and he had screwed her over. And maybe he had had the best intentions, but that didn't make it any better. She should hate him for that. 

But she had come back, and tortured him. Hell, maybe that had got rid of whatever hatred she still felt. And he had changed. Had called her piece of shit, and that shocked her. Maybe, deep down, she had always felt that he was on her side. He was her watcher; he had to be on her side. And all of a sudden, Wesley wasn't Wesley the Watcher any more, but just Wesley, who turned out to someone else entirely. And she had straddled him, accused him of wanting her, when she knew he hadn't. She had just wanted him to notice her. Wanted him to see her not as Faith the Evil Slayer, but as Faith. See her sexually, as he never had done when they were in Sunnydale. 

She walked along the sidewalk, dawdling, heading back to the hotel. She wasn't a naïve woman. She understood men and she understood sex. And she knew that, finally, Wesley _did_ want her. The problem was, he didn't seem to _want_ to want her. And that was Wesley for you, she realised, kicking out at a wall petulantly. Too fucking noble. 

She carried on walking, this time trying to convince herself that she didn't want him after all. He was fucking idiot, with his rules and regulations and his stupid glasses and his clean shirts and… 

Down in an alley there was movement. The sound of a woman's scream rang out, and Faith ran forward and into the alley, all thoughts of Wesley forgotten. She skidded to a halt. There was no one there. She stood stock still, feeling the breeze on her body, listening intently. A shift in the air, and she whirled, one foot lashing out, hard, against the creature manifesting at her side. It was strong, but she was stronger, and other than a sudden painful strike to the back of her neck, she had little trouble in coming out the victor. For a couple of seconds the demon lay at her feet, green pus oozing out liberally, then it shimmered and disappeared. Faith shrugged. Disappeared dead demons. Pretty much par for the course. She continued back to the hotel, rubbing her neck, and trying not to think about Wesley. 

*** *** *** 

Lilah Morgan smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. Faith hadn't been arrested, but that wasn't important any more. No, she had had a much better plan. And it was going to be beautiful. 


	9. Little Miss Pure and Perfect

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Disclaimer: Not mine.   
Distribution: Just ask. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Nine - Little Miss Pure and Perfect**

Buffy Summers was pissed off. As of late, this was nothing new, as, ever since Willow had brought her back, she had been in state of simmering confusion and frustration. Her life had ceased to make sense, and she wasn't handling it well. She had welcomed the latest occurrence; it was a chance to leave Sunnydale, to get away from all the people watching her, waiting to check that "their" Buffy was back, that everything was as it had been. And, despite her dissatisfaction with, well, everything, deep down that was what she wanted too. Maybe that was part of what this was about. Maybe seeing Angel would bring it all back, would make her feel like Buffy again. Except it hadn't worked like that, because no sooner had she arrived than everything had been, "ooh, Faith!" and she had been ignored. 

Faith was a killer. A rogue slayer. She was dangerous. She was deadly. And she was Angel's new best friend. Actually, Buffy's subconscious reminded her, it seemed to be more a case of Faith being _Wesley's_ best friend. Buffy ignored her subconscious. She was on a self pity roll, and she didn't want her own personal Jiminy Cricket getting in the way. Time rolled on, and she sat in a corner of the foyer, generally feeling sorry for herself, and, uncomfortably, found herself thinking about Spike. **Bad thoughts!** she remonstrated herself severely. Spike was bad. Spike was all wrapped up in Wrong Buffy. She jumped up, eager for anything to distract her from herself. 

"Hey, you!" Gunn looked up from the case file he had been not reading, eyebrows raising at the slayer's peremptory tone. 

"You talkin' to me?" 

"Are you playing at Robert De Niro, or something?" Buffy asked, relishing the sting of sarcasm. "Look, I came to LA for a reason, so if you guys aren't going to help, I've got a bit of vampire hunting to do." 

As she spoke, Wesley walked in. "I've got a lead on your vampires." He approached Buffy, but turned to Gunn. "I popped into Caritas. Apparently there have been a couple of odd occurrences out on Hunter and 5th." 

"Not that old wreck on the corner?" Wesley nodded. 

"That's what Lorne's heard." He turned back to Buffy. "You might want to look into it - who knows, you might even find your ring there." Buffy's eyes narrowed at the oh-so-slight mocking in his voice - he clearly still didn't believe that the ring existed. 

"Hey, I'm itchin' for a fight!" Faith swaggered up to the little group, flashing a grin at her sister slayer. "Let's hit it, B!" Buffy shrugged, indifferent to whether or not Faith accompanied her, and the two slayers turned to leave, when Wesley caught Faith by the arm. 

"Been doing a bit of patrolling?" he enquired. Faith followed his glance to the green goo on the sleeve of her top. She laughed. 

"Don't sweat it, Wes. My little demon pal wasn't exactly a match for the slayer." She pulled free, and a minute later, Gunn and Wesley were alone in the hotel, Wesley looking at the doors through which Faith had just left, an expression of disquiet on his face. 

"Hey, Wesley! Wes!" He turned suddenly, startled by Gunn's shout. 

"What?" Gunn looked at him in concern. 

"You OK, man? You zoned out on me there." Wesley shook his head, laughing ruefully. 

"Sorry. It was just... nothing." 

*** *** *** 

The corner of Hunter and 5th was not exactly in the best part of LA, but in daylight Faith and Buffy were not particularly worried. One up side of being a slayer - being mugged was not really a fear you had to live with. They stood in front of what had, in better times, been an upmarket ice rink. Now it was deserted, dilapidated, and due for demolition. Prime nest material for a bunch of vamps. 

"I loved ice skating," Buffy remarked, almost unaware that she was doing so. Faith shot her a curious look. 

"What happened? You were savaged by a figure skater or something?" Buffy looked at her blankly. 

"What?" 

"Jeez, B, dying really did a number on you, didn't it?" 

"Dying wasn't the problem." Buffy stalked into the building, pushing open one of the wrought iron decorated doors, Faith at her heels. 

"So what _is_ your problem, Buffy?" 

"Right now, my problem is _you_." 

"Hey, if you're still angsting about me sleeping with soldier boy..." Buffy gritted her teeth, and Faith laughed. "You know, if he'd really loved you, he'd have realised it wasn't you. You ever think 'bout that?" Buffy stayed resolutely silent, but Faith continued. "He was a pretty good lay, though. Had the moves down. Wasn't exactly making his début, if you know what I mean." She waltzed off, then returned. 

"Nobody here. Damn! I was really looking forward to some action, you know. I'm starting to get that ache." She saw Buffy's outraged expression, and laughed again. "You can die, but you're still the same old Buffy, aren't you? Little Miss Pure and Perfect." She walked out of the building, leaving the door swinging behind her, and the original slayer watching her leave in confusion. 

Confused because Buffy had just worked out why she had a problem with Faith. Because Faith had sorted it out. She had friends. She had a watcher. She had people who cared. And she had sorted her life out better than Buffy had managed. There had been a kernel of truth in Cordelia's earlier remark - death, prison, no big diff. Faith had done better. But now it looked like it had all been a lie. That's all it was, Buffy assured herself. Faith had been stringing them all along, pretending remorse, pretending feelings she could never have. And now she was resorting to form. Big deal. They would move on. 

She followed Faith outside, and somehow knew that something wasn't right. Faith _had_ got it sorted. So what the hell was going on? 


	10. Lost in the Sight, Lost in the Smell, Lo...

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Disclaimer: Not mine.   
Distribution: Just ask. 

Yep, I deliberately pinched that little bit from "Yellow Brick Road". 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Ten - Lost in the Sight, Lost in the Smell, Lost...**

Wesley paced the hotel foyer, some unnamed dread filling him. Buffy had returned from the old ice rink, but had merely shrugged when he asked where Faith was. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his very depths. Something was _badly_ wrong. 

*** *** *** 

Kick out with the left, connect, swing over and land, kick out with the right. A punch in the guts with the right, follow with the same again. The vampire stumbles back, take a step away, then run forward, kick with both feet. The vampire falls. Straddle him, stake in the air, laughing. The vampire recovers, rolls over on top. (Oh, that's _good_.) Buck and dislodge him, glorying in the fight. He rolls over, follow him, stop him rising. (Pity no one thought of that before.) And in with the stake. (Ooh, and he has a friend. How fucking loyal.) Demony but not vamp. Kick right and left, he falls over a tombstone (more like fucking pathetic) and she has the stake still and it goes in. Demon's lying there, and there's blood this time... 

Faith stared blindly at the blood on her hands, panting slightly at the exertion. It ran over her hands, and in a flash she was back to that day, back at the warehouse... 

...Wesley, lying there, his eyes fluttering closed as the blood spilled over her hand... 

...the knife sinking deep into soft human flesh, life flickering away... 

...blood on her hands, blood that stayed no matter how she scrubbed... 

"What the fuck is the matter with me?" she whispered to herself. 

*** *** *** 

Wesley had given up pacing in the Hyperion and had gone home for a spot of pacing in his apartment. He still hadn't been able to get anything out of Buffy, apart from Faith being her usual self, which, from Buffy as she was at the moment didn't seem to mean very much. She had been fine though, so there wasn't any reason to worry. No reason at all. 

*** *** *** 

The beat strums heavy in the air, smoke and sweat swirling around, seducing the senses, making it possible to forget. The tang and bite of alcohol burns down her throat, makes her head spin... 

...closes her eyes...black... 

...she dances, coiled tight against the man in front of her, smoothing herself against his front, feeling the hardness of him against her. His hands touching her, feeling her breasts, and she is lost in the sensation. She moves to the beat, feeling the music thrum within her... 

...closes her eyes...black... 

...throws back her head, laughing breathlessly, aware of the scent of arousal around her. She moves sinuously, drapes herself the man (...another man...) and feels his hands at her waist. She holds them, feels the strength in the fingers, but a strength that is no match for hers, and she likes that... 

...closes her eyes...black... 

...she feels, moves, closes her eyes..._Wesley!_

Faith's eyes snapped open, and she looked around in confusion. A smoke-filled bar, raucous laughter in the background, a pool table listing in the corner, the smell of stale beer and stale sweat making her crinkle up her nose. What was she doing here? A hand touched her shoulder and she spun round, fists raised and ready. A man leered down, traed a finger along the cleavage revealed by her top. 

"Wanna dance again, hot thing?" She didn't even bother to hit him, just pushed him aside and ran for the entrance, scared of what was happening. She needed to go home. 

*** *** *** 

Wesley looked at the phone, willing it to ring. Then he wondered if he should call the police. 

*** *** *** 

Breathes in, inhaling the salty bite of the air... 

...closes her eyes...black... 

...hits out, hears screaming... 

...closes her eyes...black... 


	11. I Don't Wanna Be Like Old George Reeve

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk)   
Disclaimer: Not mine.   
Distribution: Just ask. 

Title is from that song, "I don't wanna be like old George Reeve / Stuck in a Superman role...". Mr Collins is named after the Bennets' cousin in "Pride and Prejudice". Don't ask why. I don't know. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Eleven - I Don't Wanna Be Like Old George Reeve**

Eleanor Adams had been a big fan of Superman. Not just the latest teen series incarnation, or Lois & Clark, but the good old movies with Christopher Reeve, and before that the original comics. Her grandfather had been a fan, and she had spent hours at his house, sitting on the arm of his chair, reading them with him. Her mother used to joke that that was how she learned to read. She was wearing her favourite Superman t-shirt when Detective Bramley leant down and covered her body. 

Early morning, and the wooded inlet on the Californian coast just north of LA was already swarming with cops, with a scattering of forensic scientists. A tourist, taking an early morning run, had called them an hour earlier, reporting, in a shaking voice, that she had found two dead bodies. The girl, whom they had identified from her driver's licence, was seventeen, in her senior year at a local high school. The man with her had no ID, but he was wearing a UCLA t-shirt, and identification would not be long in coming. They had both been stabbed, and left to bleed to death overnight. 

Bramley swore under his breath as he looked down at covered mounds of the two kids. What a fucking waste. His insides burned and his jaw hardened as he geared up to begin the investigation. After a while, he had always believed that he would become inured to the horrors of death, but that initial kick in the stomach feeling always remained. He walked over to the jogger, who was looking pasty in early morning sun. He was still shaking, and one of Bramley's colleagues had got him a blanket and a polystyrene cup of coffee. Half an hour later they hadn't learned anything new. Mr Collins was adamant that he hadn't seen anything, hadn't heard anything. He had just been running, then had seen the bodies, right in the middle of the copse. 

"So, you didn't see _anyone_ whilst you were jogging?" The man looked at him in surprise. 

"Well, I didn't say _that_," he replied defensively. "There was some chick running past when I first left the hotel, but that was…" 

"Some chick?" interrupted Bramley, hope rising that they were finally getting somewhere. 

"Yeah. Looked kinda funny, if you ask me. Shoulda been partying in what she was wearing not…" He broke off, a horrified look on his face. "Jesus! You think it was her?" 

"What did she look like, Mr Collins?" The tourist sat for a moment, concentrating. 

"She was hot, y'know? Not too tall, but not like a midget or anything. Um, dark hair, dark eyes - I think. She was wearing these leather pants and a black top. Didn't leave much to the imagination, if you know what I mean. Crap, man! You really think it was her?" Bramley barely restrained himself from heaving a sigh of exasperation. He counted to ten. 

"It's too soon to tell. However, we will be looking for her. In the meantime, if you could give your details to the officer over there…" 

"Hey, no problem! You don't need me to, like, stick around, do you?" 

"That won't be necessary, Mr Collins. However, if you do think of something else, please contact us ASAP." He left the over-enthusiastic witness giving his address to the officer, and got into his car, ready to head back to the precinct. Just his luck that a recent re-demarcation had landed this in his lap. Two kids killed, and a mystery woman in leather… 

He swore again, loudly this time. No, that wasn't right. She wouldn't have done this. Heck, she was probably still on a high from not being charged before, cosying up with her English pal. He sighed. Christ, why could these things never be easy? He leant over to the back seat, tried to open his case with one hand, banged his thumb, and swore again. Twisting round, he used both hands and, after rifling through the filing cabinet's worth of paper stuffed in the old leather brief case, extracted a photo of a sultry looking female, who should have looked dangerous but frankly, to his way of thinking, just looked scared. He pulled himself out of the car, and jogged up to where Mr Collins was divesting himself of the police blanket. He shoved the photograph under his nose. 

"This the woman you saw?" Mr Collins scratched his nose, and hiked up his running shorts. 

"Sure as hell looks like her, Detective." As this elicited no reaction, he shrugged, and headed towards another officer who was giving him a lift back to the hotel. The other police got on with their jobs, leaving Bramley standing there, staring at the photograph in his hand. 

A photograph of Faith. 


	12. Lie Back and Think of England

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twelve - Lie Back and Think of England**

It was a sad fact, but CNN just didn't have the edge over the BBC breakfast news. Wesley had come to this conclusion many months ago; as an inveterate early riser it was one of the first things he noticed about America. CNN was too slick, too polished, not enough: "And now we'll return to regional news where a flood in Barlborough (population about 300) slightly damaged the local primary school." Wesley missed that. He also missed British politics - he could never work out who everyone was in the US government. 

He lay on his couch, yesterday's shirt still on, though slightly more crumpled than it had been. The phone was on the floor, within arm's reach in case it rang. Faith still hadn't turned up, and though he had debated calling the police, he hadn't as yet. Bringing Faith to their attention once again would not, he had eventually decided, be a good thing. But he was still worried, and, after watching more news about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, he sat up decisively, and started looking for his shoes. This was the first time Faith had disappeared like this, and God knows what had happened to her. 

Finding his shoes, he pulled them on, grabbed a jacket, and was making for the front door when it swung open, revealing the object of his concerns. 

"Faith!" Seeing that she was, at the very least, conscious and still in one piece, concern quickly became anger. "Where the _devil_ have you been? I've been worried to…" Before he could really get into his tirade, she had launched herself at him, pushing him back, until his heels hit the couch, and he fell back. Faith wasn't slow to take of advantage of his position, and straddled him, grinding down, smiling her wicked smile as his body reacted to her closeness. 

"Faith -" 

"Oh, come on, Wes!" She leaned over him, hair falling against his face until all he could see, all he could feel, all he could breathe was her. 

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked his strangled tone rising to a maidenly shriek as she wriggled about, one hand undoing his flies with experience he didn't want to ponder on. She focused on him, eyes wide and glittering with lust and something strange he couldn't identify. 

"You know you want this, Wesley. I've seen you looking at me." She had undone his trousers, and had her hand down, touching parts he hadn't allowed himself to think about in relation to her. He tried to grab hold of her arm, but she shook his hand away, pouting at him. "Hey, I've been a good little slayer. Don't I get a reward?" His trousers were half way down now, and Wesley was having problems thinking straight as Faith sat up for a moment, glorying in the exhibition as she crossed her arms and threw off her top, leaving her arms raised, just for a moment, just long enough for Wesley to get a good luck, at her slim, supple torso, slightly olive skin soft and far too enticing, breasts round and firm, nipples pointed. Then she was leaning forward again, and Wesley was lost in the touch of hair, the feeling of her breasts against yesterday's shirt, her hands doing things…Jesus! 

He sat up, pushed her off, pulled up her trousers, and leaped off the couch as if it was on fire. Watcher. Slayer. Watcher. Slayer. Watcher, slayer… 

"What are you doing!?" he shouted at her, raking one hand across his hair, trying not to look at her sitting there, topless, flushed and her eyes… Her eyes flickered closed, then opened, and suddenly Faith was leaping up as well. 

"What the fuck!" She made a grab for her top, looking about, scared. "Wesley, I- Oh God!" To his horror, her eyes filled with tears, and she sat back down, her knees drawn against her chest. 

"Faith, it's all right." He sat down tentatively beside her, willing his body to behave itself. "Look, these things can get a little… out of hand, and I know that when you've been patrolling you sometimes…" Faith raised her head, interrupting him. 

"No, I-it's not that." She blushed slightly, then continued. "There's something wrong with me, Wesley. I think I'm losing it." Visibly upset, she sat there, and Wesley reached out and touched her shoulder, wanting to comfort her. At the feel of his hand, she half turned, and put her arms round him. "I'm scared," she whispered, and he held her close, feeling her relax against him. He bit his lip, feeling her body mould against his, and looking down, he could see the elegant whiteness of his fingers spread across the warmer colour of her back, could feel her skin moving with every breath she took, could sense her in every particle of his being. 

He closed his eyes and thought of England. 


	13. Not Just a Little Girl Lost

**THE EMERALD CITY**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Damn! I wish hadn't used that George Reeve song as a title - now I can't get it out of my head! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirteen - Not Just a Little Girl Lost**

Angel perused the book open in front of him. The main thing of interest was a picture of an ornate golden ring with three stones. The Wonderful Ring of Reynard. Wesley was right; according to his research, its only reference was in middle English literature. However, it seemed like the old adage, where there's smoke, there's fire, held true, even with the mystical, because according to Giles - who had not appreciated a telephone call at one o'clock in the morning, his time - it was the real deal. Probably some itinerant writer hearing about it in a tavern, he had hypothesised. Now it just remained to find out what Wolfram & Hart wanted with it. And, more to the point, where it actually was, because his sources were all saying the same thing: Wolfram & Hart were looking for a bunch of vamps who had something they wanted. Odds were good it was the ring. Angel looked up from the book. 

"I just can't figure out what they want with it." Lorne, sitting on the other side of the counter, didn't say anything, which was unusual in itself. Angel, looking suspicious, suddenly targeted him with one of his patented stares. "Lorne, what do you know about it?" 

"Me? Ignorant as the… very ignorant snow. I know nothing." Eyes widened, hands raised, Lorne appeared the very picture of innocence. Angel, who knew better, was not convinced. 

"Lorne…" 

"Okay, okay, so you got me. Technically, it's not so much "I don't know" as "yes, I think I have a very good idea", but you know how these things work. They sing, I read them, I _don't_ tell anyone else about it." 

"Lorne, we're saving the world." Lorne snorted, and gave Angel a look which said, "I know you far too well so don't pull that crap on me." 

"No, you're looking for your ex-girlfriend's ring." Angel looked threatening. It had very little impact, Lorne being far too aware of his worth as a babysitter to believe that Angel was going to harm him. Next he tried the ole puppy dog eyes look, which scored a result. Lorne heaved a huge sigh, and produced a pen, sneaked a bit of paper from Wesley's stockpile, and scribbled down a telephone number. "Ring this. Old acquaintance of mine. He might have the answers you're looking for." With that, he rose from his stool, and made his way Caritas-wards, stopping once at the doors to say, "Angel-cakes? Be nice." 

*** *** *** 

Bramley walked up the drive to the Hyperion Hotel, marvelling once again at the bizarre set up in operation here. On returning to LA he had tried to call ex-detective Kate Lockley, hoping she could shine some light on what was going on with these people, but she hadn't answered her phone. But he had to go on anyway, had to ask Faith… His ruminations were halted as he did a double take at the _thing_ walking past him, sharing a little wave. _Green?_ Yep, one hunk of weird. Probably not the best place for someone like Faith to be hanging out. She needed normality, stability, not a bunch of circus freaks. 

He pulled open the doors, and walked inside. Behind the desk was Angel, another member of the weird brigade, and the man generally credited with messing up Detective Lockley so bad she was forced to leave the department. 

"I'm looking for Faith." Angel looked up from the paper in his hand, stilling as he recognised the man standing in front of him. 

"She's not here." His voice indicated all too well that co-operation was not in his vocabulary. Bramley tried to stay calm. 

"I just want to ask her some questions." 

"You asked them. She's not here." 

"Well, I really need to talk with her." Angel's face remained blank, and Bramley's lips pursed as he tried to keep from swearing at him. "Look, I'm not about to throw her in jail. I just have a couple of questions about where she was last night…" He trailed off as he recognised a look of defensiveness and possible guilt in Angel's eyes. "She _was_ here last night, wasn't she?" But the mask was back in place, and Angel just shrugged. 

"I'm not her keeper." It was matter-of-factly said, but Bramley's insides sank. If she had been here, Angel would have said so…probably. The fact that he was non-committal was bad. "Wesley around?" Not that that would necessarily help, as it appeared that the Englishman was quite happy to lie through his teeth if he thought it would protect Faith. 

"No." Bramley turned to leave, then saw the doors opening, and Faith walked in, Wesley close behind her. She saw the detective, and stopped, a worried look crossing her already pale face. Wesley, who had been concentrating on Faith's back, looked up as she halted, and Angel noticed with a silent curse that he too looked suddenly worried. 

"Detective Bramley. How… _nice_ to see you again." 

"Hello, Wesley. Faith." Her mumbled greeting was almost inaudible, and Bramley started getting some very bad vibes. 

"Did you forget something, Detective?" asked Wesley, as smoothly as he could manage. 

"I just needed to ask Faith a few more questions." There was an imperceptible easing of tension, until he continued, "about last night." 

"L-last night?" 

"Where were you between the hours of midnight and six this morning?" 

"She was with me." The answer came quickly, and Bramley was ready to bet his pension that it was a lie. He raised one eyebrow, his gaze steady on Wesley until a throaty laugh distracted him. 

"Oh, come on, Wes! The detective's far too smart to fall for that." Bramley watched in confusion as Faith sauntered up to him, a cat-like smile on her beautiful face, all signs of fear vanished. "Found me a little action, last night. A little drinking, a little dancing. There's no law against that, John. It _is_ John, isn't it?" Bramley nodded, his throat dry, as she leaned one arm against his shoulder. He wasn't particularly tall, and she was wearing some pretty substantial heels. He tried to ignore the signals his body was sending him, and focused on the woman he was supposed to be questioning. 

"And where was this?" She shrugged, circling him, almost as a hunter stalks his prey, and Bramley suddenly realised that Faith could be a dangerous person. She wasn't just some little girl lost, after all. 

"Out on the highway. I don't know where exactly." 

"When did you leave?" The husky laugh came again. 

"Hell, I don't remember. I was having _much_ too good a time." 

"Try." 

"You really don't understand, John." She was in front of him again, and as she spoke, she reached out, and fiddled with his tie, leaving him with the distinctly unsettling notion that she could strangle him in a moment. She smiled again, and was about to speak when she was suddenly pulled away from him. Bramley caught one glimpse of her furious expression, before Angel, who had at some time during their exchange come out from behind the counter, pulled her back against him, and Wesley moved forward swiftly, obliterating Bramley's view of the other two. 

"What exactly is this about, Detective?" the other man asked, his tone somewhat peremptory. 

"Uh…I…" Bramley wasn't paying attention; too busy trying to crane his neck far enough to see what Faith and Angel were doing because, from what he could see, they were trying pretty damn hard to do each other an injury. Reluctantly, he returned to Wesley. "A man and a young woman were murdered out on Ramsey Cove last night. A witness saw someone matching Faith's description running from the scene. I'm sorry, Wesley, we're going to have to bring her in for questioning." 


End file.
